


Fools Mate

by Chummy



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Denial, Flirting, M/M, They play games, akechi’s valid anger, he’s a fucked up kid, its not very valid but you know, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 09:49:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21509119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chummy/pseuds/Chummy
Summary: A new player was introduced to the game Akechi had been playing for so long. A game he had perfected. Akira was no different to every other pawn Akechi manipulates on a daily basis.Is what he thought at first.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	Fools Mate

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Akechi fucking shoots us day!!!! i’m a day late,,, anyways tho. Named after a chess move, I took chess as an elective in 6th grade. I don’t remember shit.

It angered him. More than anything Akira often inspired pure anger in Akechi. Stirred his lungs with licks of fiery rage with every single time one of those smiles were given to him so honestly, it made him sick. 

He can remember when it began. The night he connected all the pieces, sitting up straight in the bed he never really sleeps in, revelation at the tip of his tongue. 

Akira and his gang of misfits were,  _ had, _ to be the ever so elusive Phantom Thieves. In some ways it was so painfully obvious it pissed him off. 

Because  _ of course _ . It would be him. 

A new player was introduced to the game Akechi had been playing for so long. A game he had perfected. Akira was no different to every other pawn Akechi manipulates on a daily basis.

Is what he thought at first. 

Until he caught himself being disarmed by late night conversations, beginning and ending in lies and somewhat truth, filled with raspy goodnights and laughs that he  _ refused _ to admit stirred more than anger in him. 

Akechi filled the conversations with barely there acknowledgments of listening in. He was filing his nails, Akira was talking about some math teacher. Or was it history? He didn’t care. 

They would say goodnight and that was all. Akechi slept soundly for the first time in weeks. 

Late nights turned to “good morning” texts, which turned to “did you sleep well?”, which turned too “what are you doing later?” and Akechi was at a loss, annoyed at the racing of his heart. Answering joyishly, as he scowled at his phone, agreeing to meet. 

His hands were sweaty but that’s just cause he can get more information out of Akira now, it’s excitement over a case, even though that had never happened to him before. 

It pissed him off. 

But he had things under control, not letting the simmering anger beneath his collar show as they talked. He smiled, his winning smile, his voice was light and pleasant. Dancing around topics with a cutting grace it amused him. A joy to be around, he was. 

It was all fine until Akira started to play too. 

Akira would smile, would laugh without a care, would  _ win _ , chest puffing in subtle smugness that made Akechi want to hurt him until he bruised. Akira had friends, genuine ones, who didn’t  _ ask _ things of him. He had them by the fucking boatloads. All looking at Akira with twinkling eyes, Akechi hopes to god he never looks like that. 

The anger boiled and boiled. 

His gloved hands creaked around the handle of the steaming cup of sweet coffee Sojiro served him, as he watched Akira interact with him. Sojiro telling him to watch his hands as he handled curry, all parental guidance and care in his voice. 

It  _ boiled  _ his blood. 

He would die before admitting he was jealous. Him? Envious? Of what? Attic trash like him? Unheard of.

He continued to file his nails, Akira told him about a new book he had read, it sounded interesting. 

He slept soundly again. 

Fine until Akechi realized Akira was  _ anything _ ,  _ everything but a _ pawn. 

Akira started to win. Akechi didn’t see red at that.

Akira wears pride well. Gleaming eyes and sharp teeth. Their games were  _ exciting _ . Neck and neck. Invigorating. Akechi had a lead, 13-12. It helped his less than wounded pride. 

Games turned into boiling bath water and confessions of secrets he had never said. Games turned to coffee and dinner, turned to movie and train ride movie reviews. Games turned to shit talking the teacher that threw an eraser at Akira’s head. Games turned from blackmail in a school classroom to peeling off masks to kiss better. 

He didn’t know how the game had changed. He didn’t know the rules to this game but he was going to win ultimately.

He had too. 

So he learned. Winking flusters Akira, makes him drop coffee cups. Whispering in his ear takedown tactics makes him swerve the giant van. He learned Akira liked how he looked when he blushes, so he plays up the coy shy act. He doesn’t pay mind to how easy it is to blush around Akira, doesn’t take much for his cheeks to flame up.

It pisses him off. Akira likes it. He keeps playing. 

As Akira’s warm hands felt like fire even through his gloves. As Akira’s laughter soothed wounds and kisses left him breathless. 

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. 

It would all end, a bullet to the forehead Akechi lovingly kissed goodnight. 

It didn’t matter.

_ God,  _ it was madness. 

But he would  _ win _ . 

Victory,  _ justice _ , so sweet, so near. He could taste it, feel it within his reach with every new step taken in the glamourous casino. He could  _ see _ it with every single word, dripping with trust, laid upon his ears and his only from Akira. 

His sleepless nights came back. As the  _ date _ approached. No matter the goodnights uttered or warm body occupying his side. 

The attic was ridiculously comfortable. He’d die before admitting it. 

November 20th was coming faster than a train out of control. 

The games were desperate. They cheated, a lot. Obviously most times, obnoxiously hiding a set of cards beneath a table, moving pieces when another isn’t looking, touches to the inside of a wrist to throw off a shot. 

His rage came to a climax, 12:00 AM November 20th. Thoughts of Akira had kept him awake, the dangerous lick of regret painfully climbing up his spine. He pushed it down, away and away. He didn’t have time to feel  _ bad _ . To  _ regret _ . To wish for things to be different. For things to be different,  _ why couldn’t things be different?  _

He nearly screamed, nearly, the walls of his apartment were paper thin and he didn’t want a noise complaint. Instead he clutched at his hair, the same locks that felt Akiras deft fingers running through it just hours before. Akechi doesn’t know if he’s breathing, his lungs are burning. He feels like screaming. 

He doesn’t. 

Tears well, they don’t fall. They sting and burn along with the anger at everything in his heart. At everything in his life. Everything except Akira. 

He doesn’t know when he stopped playing but it didn’t matter. 

He needed to win. 

His mind was blissfully empty, walking that police corridor. The practiced lilt in his voice felt numb as he urged Sae away. 

Akira was beaten, awfully. A mixture of anger and sickness boiled and warred inside him. Even with bruised eyes, Akira eyes sparkled at the sight of him. 

Akechi felt sick. His voice raised, the screams he never let out coming in twisted sharp words. He saw how each of them hurt more than any injury Akira had gotten. 

_ Why couldn’t things be different? _

He aimed.

_ It was wonderful playing with you.  _

“This is how your justice ends.” He all but spits. 

_ Checkmate. _

The boy made of sunrises, charm and grace, dead at his feet.

He was king. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope u enjoyed, read my other akechi fics i have so many. Too many. i love him sue me. might make a twitter to yell about how much i love him,,,, sue me. Also might edit this to make it idk, fuller? deeper? just more. Don’t hold me to that tho. <3


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